Heroes of Olympus - Medieval AU
by zenithe
Summary: this is my submission for the pjo/hoo mini-bang on tumblr! :)


**Once upon a time…**

The sea was unusually still that day, a deep silk scarf that wrapped around over the beach. Percy swirled his fishing-rod in the water to try and stir up the fish, but none would come. He sighed and leaned back in his little boat. The sun beat down upon his neck and Percy adjusted his straw hat, hoping that he'd at least get something to eat for dinner, if not to sell.

But it had already been four hours. He had woken up at six in the morning and headed down to the bay with his tin can of scraps and slick wooden fishing pole. His boat was gently swaying in the rhythm of the tides, waiting for him. Yet Percy's skinny wire net remained empty of any fish.

He began to paddle back in defeat. He supposed he could gather a couple oysters in the rocks as a small breakfast for himself and his mother, but only one in every hundred shells was an oyster, and with his luck he'd only end up finding two. As he rowed onshore and roped his boat to the dock, Percy wiped sweat from his forehead and knelt into the lip of the ocean to find oysters.

A breeze blew softly and Percy tilted his head upwards, thankful for the cool wind. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a poster fluttering on a pole near the dock.

KNIGHTS NEEDED: MEN WITHIN THE AGES 15-45

ALL MEN WHO FIT THESE STANDARDS MUST COME TO THE ROYAL PALACE AT NOON ON MONDAY. BRING ALL NECESSITIES, AS NEWLY INITIATED KNIGHTS WILL BE STAYING AT THE PALACE UNTIL THE WAR IS OVER. NO PREVIOUS TRAINING REQUIRED.

WAR IS NIGH. QUEEN GAEA PLANS TO INVADE DEMIGOPOLIS BY SUMMER'S END.

ALL KNIGHTS WILL BE REWARDED TWO THOUSAND GOLD PIECES BY THE KING

Percy's eyes widened.

Two thousand gold pieces? That would be enough to buy his mother a manor! And he'd dreamed of being a hero when he was a kid, with swords made of branches and shields made of basket-weave. Everybody had been talking about Queen Gaea's threat—it had been going around for weeks—but for some reason, it never occurred to Percy that Demigopolis would need to draft knights.

Percy thought about his mother. She would never agree to this, never willingly send her little boy off to war. But she knew the consequences of disobeying the law. They didn't have a choice, after all. Percy was seventeen years old, young and strong. He was more than qualified to become a knight.

Forgetting the oysters, Percy dragged his fishless net over his left shoulder and his pole over his right. He raced back home as fast as he could to tell his mother the news.

Annabeth's gray eyes glazed over as she skimmed through the battle plans her father had laid out on her desk after dinner. Her candle flickered. The flame had gnawed its way to the bottom of the wax stick and was about to sputter out.

 _The forces are too thinly scattered_ , she thought wearily as she crossed out another sketch on the paper. _A web of soldiers is needed, but this one is much too weak. We'll need to transfer the ones in Jupiter City back up to the front of the palace, and switch the groups by the garden to where the river splits. Then we need to deal with evenly sorting out the new knights and the veterans…_

She yawned. The candlelight dimmed. Annabeth supposed the plans would have to wait till morning.

Wait…it was morning.

A rooster squawked outside the window and Annabeth slumped in her armchair, exhausted. She had stayed up all night revising her father's war strategies. While he was a great strategist, Annabeth was better, and she knew it. But her father took all the credit for his daughter's ideas—not because he wanted to, but because no one would ever follow the plans that a girl had written.

Annabeth trudged back to her comfortable bed and fell into the quilts. It only seemed like a moment, but the next thing she knew, her name was being called for breakfast.

"Coming, Father," she groaned, and rolled out of the covers sleepily. She rubbed the haze out of her eyes and splashed some water on her face from the pewter bowl next to her bed. Her stomach rumbled loudly. Perhaps eating would clear her head a bit.

When she arrived at the kitchen, her father smiled at her in greeting. "Good morning, my daughter," he said. "How was your sleep?"

"Fine," Annabeth replied, shoving down her internal screaming. She knew that he hadn't wanted her to stay up so late—or rather, so early. But her country needed her, and Annabeth wasn't about to give up her whole kingdom for a few extra winks of sleep.

"Your friend has a message for you, Annabeth," said her father. He handed her a scroll tied with purple ribbon.

Annabeth recognized it at once. She grabbed the scroll and untied the ribbon, unrolling the thin paper to reveal a short letter with tiny, intricate handwriting scrawled upon it.

 _Annabeth,_

 _Meet me in the royal parlor after you've eaten your breakfast. I have something to discuss with you. The princess will be there as well, but don't fret, she won't mind you arriving in your regular clothes. We all have a plan. Come soon. We won't start until you've arrived._

 _Reyna_

"Is it urgent?" asked Annabeth's father.

Annabeth's heart pounded. She and Reyna often had important conversations, yes, but what was so important that the princess would be there as well? Annabeth had never met her, and she wondered how she was supposed to act in front of her. Then again, the letter had assured her that she would not need to dress fancily. And Reyna was the princess's handmaiden; they knew each other well. Surely a friend of Reyna's should be nothing to worry about.

"I have to go to the palace parlor after I eat," Annabeth told her father.

"Why?"

"Reyna wants to meet me there," Annabeth responded, and started on her porridge.

Sunlight filtered in through the pink curtains of the princess's room, bathing it in a pale, rosy glow. Gold flowers were etched into every piece of furniture, and white flowers adorned the deep red rugs on the polished floor. The canopied bed was large and soft, piled with enormous feather pillows and crisp sheets.

Piper scratched at her gown. The seams were too tight, as usual, and her corset made her ribs feel like cracking. She couldn't wait until she changed into her comfort dress. Whenever she was to be seen in public—or even just the breakfast table!—Piper wore a frilly gown, but since she would just be meeting Reyna and her friend today, Piper was glad she didn't need something so…refined.

A knock on her door echoed through the room. Piper opened it and saw Reyna, right on time.

Reyna curtsied. "Hello, Your Majesty," she said.

Piper bowed her head. "Hello, Your Humbleness," she replied. She had kept insisting to Reyna that she could just call her 'Piper' and no formal greetings were needed. But whenever Reyna showed up at her door she always addressed her as 'Your Majesty', so Piper responded with 'Your Humbleness' as a friendly teasing. It was an odd joke, but it strengthened their friendship.

Reyna untied Piper's corset and helped her out of her giant gown. "Thank goodness that thing is off me," sighed Piper with relief. She was still wearing a petticoat underneath it, but that didn't bother her as much. Reyna took a loose blue day dress from the closet and handed it to Piper, who slipped it on gratefully.

"Thanks," said Piper. "Shall we head down?"

Her friend nodded and they headed out the door. "Annabeth should be meeting us there in a few minutes."

Piper had heard a little about the strategist's daughter, but all she really knew was that she lived with her father and stepmother in the army quarters of the palace, and that, according to Reyna, she was the one who made the best plans for the army.

They came into the parlor and sat down in the cushioned seats. "Tea, Piper?" offered Reyna, walking to the kettle.

"Sure," said Piper a little tiredly. She wished that Reyna wouldn't take her duties so seriously. They were friends, after all! Reyna didn't need to act like there was a separation between them. Piper always wanted to be one of the others, without the title of 'princess' hovering over her like the gleaming crown that adorned the dark brown braids twisted round her head. Even her father acknowledged these titles, acting upon his fame and fortune and rarely doing anything about the fragile family bond that was the only thing uniting him with Piper.

Reyna poured Piper some hot mint tea. Piper blew on it, then sipped a bit. However, a sudden knock on the door caused her to splutter it out, choking.

Reyna thumped Piper's back until she stopped coughing. "Gods," muttered Piper, "if I wasn't princess of Demigopolis, I'd be princess of klutziness."

"Come in," Reyna called to the door. It opened, and there stood a tall, blond-haired girl in a brown tunic and light skirt.

"Hi, Reyna," said Annabeth. She and Piper regarded each other. Annabeth had storm-colored eyes that made Piper feel a bit intimidated, which was ironic considering she was the royal one.

"Good morning, Your Majesty," said Annabeth, closing the door and then curtsying. Her eyes stayed on Piper, whom she didn't know, calculating and analyzing her moves. Piper decided that the best way to react was just to not hide anything. Piper had a knack for being able to charm and manipulate, but she generally avoided it, and she figured that if Annabeth was Reyna's friend, she had nothing to worry about.

"Hello, Annabeth," she said. "Sit down."

Annabeth obliged and took a seat next to Reyna, who said, "You're probably wondering why we've invited you here."

The gray-eyed girl nodded. Piper looked at Reyna, and they shared a silent agreement. The princess looked directly at Annabeth.

"We're planning on fighting in the war."

Jason paced in front of the blank stone wall. His heart was full of worry and tenseness. What was he going to say to the new recruits? His mind raced, thinking of every possible thing that could go wrong, some of which included a giant man-eating turtle.

"The initiates are here, sir," said a guard, who Jason hadn't noticed come in the door.

"Good," Jason replied, although he did not think this was very good at all.

"You have a couple minutes to finish preparing." The guard's lips curled in a sneer. "Good luck," he said, sarcasm filling his voice.

Jason hardly noticed. "Thanks, Octavian," he murmured distractedly and ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it out. Then he picked up his war helmet and placed it over his head. After a few more minutes of anxious pacing, he took a deep breath. He hurriedly grabbed his gold sword and sheathed it as he pushed open the door into a room full of teenage boys.

They all stared at him; some in awe, some in apprehension, and some in skepticism. Jason steeled himself and put on his warrior face. He gazed at all the drafted knights sternly.

"Greetings," he announced. "I am Sir Grace, your fighting instructor. As I'm sure the general has informed you, I will be teaching you basic weaponry skills and techniques to prepare you for the war to come." Jason mentally ran through his script. "I do have a few warnings to you. One: If you misbehave or act inappropriately during our sessions, I will not hesitate to remove you from this position. Depending on your offense, you could be sent to a less important squadron, be assigned a low rank, or worse. Your choice."

He used this menacing sentence to peer haughtily at all the men, some older than him, most younger. This was the newcomer class, after all. Being only sixteen, Jason would not have been assigned to re-train the veteran soldiers.

"First, I want all of you to show me what you know about swordfighting," Jason commanded. He looked around. "You!" he barked at a particularly large boy in too-small armor. "Come and demonstrate."

The poor boy glanced around, hoping that it wasn't he who was being called, but everyone else was looking at him. He exhaled and walked up to the front with a brave face that Jason knew all too well.

Jason gave him a small smile out of sympathy for the boy. "What's your name?"

The boy mumbled something that Jason couldn't hear.

"Speak up," Jason ordered. Then, to soften the blow, he added, "Don't worry, I won't bite."

"Frank," muttered the boy.

"Frank who?"

"Frank Zhang," the boy said, a little louder, and stood up straighter.

Jason blinked. "Zhang? You couldn't possibly be the son of General Zhang, our late military official who fought and won a thousand battles?"

"I am," Frank responded, sounding like he got this a lot.

"Well, you must be an extraordinary fighter," Jason complimented. "You have a sword? Good. Show me what you've got."

Frank hesitantly pulled out a modest-looking sword from his sheath. He looked at Jason as if expecting him to make the first move. When he didn't, Frank took a deep breath and lunged.

Jason blocked it easily. "Keep going," he encouraged. "I know you're nervous. But there's no need to be. You don't have to start out amazing. That's what I'm here for."

Frank jabbed at Jason's knee, but he sidestepped and knocked Frank in the stomach. He wheezed and stumbled back, but then sliced at Jason's chest. It barely caught him before he ducked, but Jason smiled. "Well done!" he said, but then stopped when he saw the expression on Frank's face.

The new knight looked like he was about to cry. "I'm no good at this," he sulked. The crowd of people behind him were giggling and elbowing one another, mimicking Frank's less-than-satisfactory fighting skills.

Jason felt a bubble of anger seethe inside him. "Pull yourselves together!" he yelled at the crowd, and they quickly stiffened.

"We don't make fun of our fellow knights here," Jason said fiercely. "We work together as a team. An army cannot stand without unity, you hear me? We will fight as one!"

He glared at them, and then turned to Frank. "That wasn't perfect, but you showed some guts, Zhang."

Frank turned red. "I'm better at archery," he blurted.

"Archery, huh?" Jason tilted his head. "Well, then, why don't you whip out one of those bows and arrows over there and show 'em how it's done."

And ten minutes later, when Frank had shot ten bulls-eyes from all the way across the room, no one was laughing at him anymore.

Tripping face-first into a pile of weapons was not an ideal way to begin the day.

Leo groaned and pulled himself out, gingerly checking himself to make sure he wasn't hurt. There was nothing on his skin except ashes, grease, and the occasional burn mark from this morning as he added the final touches to his creations. He smiled appreciatively.

"All right, time to get you bad boys into the box," he said to the pile of weapons. There were not very many, but each was carefully crafted and had to be handled with care. Plus, they were pretty heavy.

Leo placed each one into the large chest in front of him, making sure they all fit. Then he shut the box and locked it up, stuffing the key into the pocket of his trousers. Then he tied a rope to the handle of the chest and pulled.

Nothing.

"Aw, come on, muscles, do your thing," he demanded. He pulled again, harder this time, straining his skinny arms. The box moved reluctantly, scraping across the floor with a terrible scratching noise. Leo sighed. Oh well. He hoped the blacksmith wouldn't be too angry with him for the marks on the floor when he got home from his trip to the bakery. At least the front door was close, so Leo didn't have to pull too much.

Leo scraped his way through the door and towards the cart that was outside, which harnessed a horse that was tethered to a nearby pole. Leo relaxed his arms for a moment. Now came the even harder part—lifting the box and putting it in the cart.

He automatically looked around to see if there was anybody nearby who could assist him in picking up the box, but he knew that even if there were people around, he couldn't approach them for help. That would lead to questions about what he was doing, which would lead to feeble answers that weren't exactly answers, which would lead to suspicion.

Puffing out a long breath, Leo grabbed the handle. Heaving and grunting, he attempted to lift the box.

He managed to get it a couple inches off the ground before it fell on his toe.

In the end, he had to take all the weapons out, put the box into the cart, then climb into the cart and put the weapons back in. He kept looking around to make sure nobody was seeing him mess with heavy swords and wicked daggers and whatnot, but strangely, no one seemed to be around.

After he was done, he untied the horse from the pole and hoisted himself onto its saddle. "Giddyup!" he said, pulling gently on the reins, and the horse began trotting down the road.

Leaning forward in his seat, Leo allowed himself one quick glance back at the forge. He had left a note earlier to the blacksmith, telling him where he had been headed. It was vague, but got the point across.

 _Off to the palace to be drafted in the army. I know you told me not to go. Going anyway. Sorry. -L_

Yeah…perhaps he should have elaborated. He felt a pang of guilt for potentially worrying the blacksmith—he was like a father to Leo, especially since Leo didn't have a father of his own. He lived in the orphanage, otherwise known as hell on earth. Leo was lucky to have gotten an apprenticeship at the forge.

Also, the note hadn't been completely honest. True, Leo was headed to the palace, but he was not going to be drafted in the army.

He was going to help lead it.

"BURN THE WITCH."

The voices rang through the air like lightning, their chant in sync with the flickering fire. The entire village seemed to be closing in on the small girl tied to the pole, struggling helplessly against her binds.

"Please!" she cried out. "I—I wasn't trying to—"

"Save your breath, girl," one of the village elders snarled. "You'll need it."

The fire was roaring now. Two men were carrying the torch towards the post, marching steadily through the crowd. Smoke drifted and crackled, poisoning the air. Villagers strayed away from the torch, keeping their eyes on the girl.

Hazel tugged desperately at the ropes knotted at her wrist, their fibers digging deep into her soft skin. She knew it was all her fault she had gotten into this mess. She never should have summoned him.

She could feel the stinging heat of the flames on her face. Panic swelled in her chest. Her eyes watered, but she refused to shut them. Her heart beat rapidly, and thick beads of sweat trickled down her neck, sizzling as they met the air. Hazel breathed hard into the smoke. So many regrets for such a young girl.

"Any last words?" someone sneered.

The flames crept closer with every heartbeat. Hazel was practically slamming herself into the post as she fought to escape her doom. She couldn't think of anything to say. Even if she could, her throat was too sore and dry to work. She couldn't even scream.

Tears rushed out of her round, golden eyes. _You can't escape this_ , she thought. _But it'll all be over soon. Everything will be okay._ She thought about her best friend, Frank, who had just been drafted into the army. At least he didn't have to see this. She would hate herself even more if she put him through that kind of pain. Hazel could still feel his big, warm hand on hers and for a moment, she felt safe. She closed her eyes, finally accepting that this was the end.

The flames had just barely stroked her ankles when the wind came.

Through the thunder of the fire, Hazel heard villagers gasping and shouting. She risked a peek, not daring to look down below where the fire was. People were screaming and cowering in fright, staring up at the sky. Hazel looked up and saw clouds racing against the darkening sky. Heavy, powerful wind was blowing at high speed through the air, toppling carts, signs, and even roofs. Hazel's curly hair was flying into her face. She noticed that the fire seemed to be dying down, the embers being carried off by this mysterious wind.

Yells were being tossed through the air, but the wind kept cutting them off. People clutched their hats and coats, squinting. Hazel couldn't discern anything they were saying until one elder's voice boomed out.

" _It's the witch._ "

Suddenly, the yells became clearer. "She did this!" "She's using dark magic!" "Destroy her!"

But of course they couldn't burn her now. Hazel gathered up the courage to look down and saw that the flames had entirely disappeared. Her cloth shoe seemed a little scorched, but other than that, she was completely unharmed.

She knew that this wind was not her doing. She was nowhere near good enough at magic to summon this level of destruction. So if it wasn't her, then it must've been—

"It's a ghost!" somebody shrieked. Everyone turned and caught their breath in horror as a translucent figure swooped over the crowd, looming above them all. At once, the entire mass of people screamed and dispersed, scattering away as fast as they could, tripping over each other in their haste to get away from the dark phantom.

Only Hazel remained, still tied to her post. But she found that the wind had loosened her ropes, and she was able to squeeze her hands and feet through. She dropped to the ground, landing on the cobblestone town square with a light "clack".

She gazed up at the ghost as the wind slowed, then stopped. Her face broke out into a massive grin.

"Thank you, Nico."

He floated gracefully down until he was eye-to-eye with his sister. "It was my distinct pleasure," he said. "But come. We must hurry."

"Hurry? Where?"

"You'll find out once we get there," he replied. "Follow me."

"Okay, could someone please explain what in the name of the gods is going on here?"

Chiron sighed. "Everyone, please, calm down," he ordered. Percy opened his mouth to speak again, but Chiron silenced him with a look.

"I know that you have many questions," he said. "And I will do my best to give you the answers. But for now, we must make introductions. Let us begin with the gentleman who is oh-so-eager to speak." He turned to Percy.

Percy cleared his throat. "Hello. Hello to the two people that I know, the seven people that I don't know, and the one random ghost. I am Perseus Jackson. You can call me Percy. I have no idea what I'm doing here. I'd like to know why you've kidnapped me and brought me to the basement of the royal castle, which smells a lot like dead rats and—"

Annabeth punched his arm. "My turn, Seaweed Brain," she said. "Okay. My name is Annabeth Chase. I'm the daughter of Frederick Chase, the military strategist." She swallowed. "Although I'm the one who actually, um, comes up with most of the strategies." She glared at the group, as if daring them to laugh at her and accuse her of lying.

Instead, Frank gasped. "You make the strategies? So you came up with that plan with the fake swords and the fog two years ago? That was one of my dad's biggest victories!"

"Oh yeah, I heard about that," Leo added, nodding approvingly. "That was wicked."

Annabeth blushed. "Thanks. Anyway," she continued, looking to her right, "you're next."

"I'm Piper," Piper said, her hands firmly clasped together in her lap. Her crown was slightly lopsided on her choppy hair, and her simple dress was rumpled. "I, uh—"

"She's the princess of Demigopolis, but you can call her 'beauty queen' like I do," Leo announced.

"Ignore that," Piper said, smacking Leo in the arm. "And I might be the princess, but you don't need to call me 'Your Highness' or anything like that."

"Right. Don't call her 'Your Highness'. Call her beauty qu—"

"And this little runt is Leo Valdez," Piper said, gesturing to him. "He's the apprentice of a blacksmith. We met when I was at the village for a festival a while ago, and he's been annoying me ever since."

"I'm also awesome," Leo piped up. He turned to Frank, who was sitting next to him but had been edging away from Leo since he opened his mouth. "What's your name?"

"I'm Frank Zhang, son of Commander Zhang, enlisted in the army," Frank mumbled. "Though I don't think I'll do very well."

Hazel smiled at him. "You'll do great, Frank." She glanced around at everyone else. "Er, my name's Hazel Levesque. That's…that's it, I guess."

"Oh, I think I've seen you around," Leo said. "You live in the village, yeah?"

"Not anymore," Hazel replied, tight-lipped. "I can't step foot in there without them trying to kill me."

Leo blinked. "Oh. Sorry. Maybe I missed the memo."

Reyna, who was next, spoke. "I am Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano, handmaiden of Piper. I helped Chiron organize this meeting."

"You have a long name," Leo commented.

"Leo, can you let people talk without butting in?" Piper demanded.

"It's okay, I'm finished," Reyna said. "Jason, you're up."

"Jason Grace, trainer of drafted soldiers. After General Zhang…" He faltered and his eyes darted to Frank. "After our previous general and most of his best commander died in combat a few years back, I'm now the temporary general of the army." He fidgeted. "I can't lead them alone, though. I'll need lots of help and training."

"That's why we're here," Chiron said. "You have all been brought here because you are gifted, highly capable warriors and engineers. I have faith that you will all become heroes soon. Our army is weak, but you are all strong, and together you can overcome Queen Gaea's invasion."

"Hold up." Percy raised a hand. "You're saying we're gonna lead the army?"

"Lead, plan, whatever you have to do," said Chiron. "Some will strategize, some will gather supplies, but all of you must be prepared to fight in the war."

"Why us?" Hazel asked. "Why and how did you choose us?"

"I have been working as a teacher of heroes for many, many years," explained Chiron. "Jason has replaced my job in soldier training, as I am getting old and do not have the strength to fight much anymore. But I have been keeping my eye out for the next generation of heroes. I already knew Reyna, Annabeth, Jason, and—vaguely—Piper, but we needed more."

"Annabeth was friends with Percy, so she recruited him," Reyna said. "Jason got Frank to join us. Piper knew of Leo's skill with metalworking, and she managed to get him to forge our weapons since most of ours were destroyed in the last war. And Nico, whom I met in the woods, brought Hazel."

"Oh, yeah, Nico hasn't introduced himself yet," Hazel said suddenly.

"You can do the honors," Nico said to Hazel. He had been getting a lot of quick peeks from the others due to the fact that he was, well…not alive.

"Nico's my long-lost brother. I summoned him as a ghost," Hazel told them, as if it were a perfectly normal thing to do.

"How does one just 'summon a ghost', exactly?" questioned Percy.

"My mother practiced witchcraft when she was alive," Hazel said stiffly. "Supposedly, magic is a 'curse', and it was passed on to me."

"Well!" Chiron clapped his hands together. "Now that we've all been acquainted, we must act quickly. The end of summer is nigh, and that is when Gaea plans to attack. Let us all take an oath of blood to show our unity."

"We've barely met, yet we're already making blood oaths," Leo said. "You guys are my kind of people."

"Are you all willing to sacrifice yourselves for this cause?" Chiron asked.

"Most of us are already directly affiliated with the war," said Reyna. "Percy and Frank were drafted. Annabeth's the war strategist. Jason's the general, Piper's the princess, and I've already pledged myself. That just leaves Hazel and Leo."

"Um, I made a crapload of weapons," Leo said indignantly. "Wouldn't want them to all go to waste, now, would I?"

"And I don't have any home to go back to. Nothing to lose," Hazel added.

On impulse, everyone looked at Nico.

"Guys, I'm literally dead," he said.

Everybody laughed.

And as the day dwindled into night, the heroes hatched a plan.


End file.
